Imperfect perfection
by TerabithiaZ
Summary: 'His fear was of abandonment, for the world had abandoned him. Left him alone. Alone, till he created her.' A scifi au turn on Mayuri and Nemu's relationship.


She was a doll, a lifeless vessel, created with the combination of Gigai and Gikon technology. Her first memory was the touch of the metallic bed which she laid upon, vast grassland which surrounded the facility in the barracks known as district twelve.

"Hello" an obnoxious voice, broke the eerie silence "I am your creator, your master. Now you might be feeling confused, that is…. If you are even capable of such a thing" Emotion. She could not understand such a concept, at least not yet. Her life had just begun, this her first moment, her first memory.

"Confused?" she asked, his smile growing wider "Yes, yes emotion! What you feel" he applauded. "I" hesitantly pointing at herself "am confused" she stated. "Yes, when placed in an unknown circumstance, one becomes confused" blank eyes stared back"I understand" touching her chest as if to prove her point.

Overwhelmed with excitement, years, no decades of research finally had come with result! An artificial subject even life form modified to the extreme, casing resembling that of a human, some parts mechanical, some not, organs ranging from wires to flesh.

This man taught her of the world beyond the grassland his love for experimentation. His body littered with scars, not scars of war but scars of advancement. One day she asked, asked why he would destroy his body in such a way. "Why you ask? Why!? For sheer curiosity No! Can't you see!" excitement taking over each cell of his body "Body, destroy!? Preposterous, I am not destroying, I am modifying! You foolish girl!" her creator spoke "Just as I modify you" Though never to perfection, he loathed perfection. To be 'perfect' meant to be unable to improve any further, always strive to reach greater brilliance, but never to perfection and she was his finest imperfection.

Being able to watch his experiment grow day by day was a living dream for him, never to admit it, far too embarrassed with his attachment. Attachment was bad. Attachment was wrong. He had learnt this lesson through other 'attachments' each failure breaking his heart just that little bit more. He remembered when he first gave her, her name. She had existed for 126000000573 seconds, 2100000009.548971 minutes and 35000000.15916666 hours. "You" he said pointing at her "are the seventh incarnations of the Nemuri Project therefore it is only befitting to bestow upon you the name 'Nemu!'" Nothing had given him such joy as this moment. Proof of his success, she had survived! She existed, and she was all he had.

Years soon past, than decades before centuries. Now 202 years old, as he 274, his body unlike hers slowly was withering. The grassland grew unfamiliar, from the days she had first known, now a grey wasteland. Even with the threat of death his research continued. He had come to a decision, that he would make another. Time was ticking, he knew that, but he could not, would not abandon her, not yet. Nemu was ignorant of the world, so unexposed; it was his fault, far too self-centered to let her go. His fear was of abandonment, for the world had abandoned him. Left him alone. Alone, till he created her.

This his last act of kindness, no, last act of humanity! If he could even be considered human anymore, his body so disfigured with all the modifications his body was forced to bear, just to be able to sustain life.

He was a belligerent narcissist, who viewed all life as experimental means however now there was no life, only her. The last of his days were nothing but work, his persistent need to create, to provide company for her. Death was knocking, hoping he could hold it off only just a little bit more. Time was all he needed, just more time. It was not as if he hadn't attempted to create another, but he remembered the grueling work, agony he had to endure to create her. He was so content just being with her, as she him.

No miracle came instead death took its place. It was Quick and sly, his life slithering away. Nemu thought nothing of it at first, her creator had a habit of staying secluded for days on end, but it had now been months, confusion much like what she had first felt swept through her as she walked up to her master's room. Knocking politely as she would usually, no response, a usual occurrence for the past month though unusual for the years. He would at least respond with a "get out!" or "bring me tea" but nothing, the door remained locked.

She would never know of his death, he would forever be locked away, she was unable to go against his orders, it was programmed, so she would never know after all she was just a machine barely human.

Nonetheless she had been something to him, his most imperfect perfection.


End file.
